


ABC's of Dying

by Forever_Sweet



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: My vent fic after a weird movie., POV will switch between chapters., People are going to die., Please skip it., This is going to get gorey., This is not a fluid story, so if a chapter makes you uncomfortable.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forever_Sweet/pseuds/Forever_Sweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I watched, "The ABC's of Death", and this was born of my frustration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A is for Awoken

She woke to the lid of a box. It is a plain brown wooden lid, but what is so surprising about it is that it exists at all. For beds do not have lids; only coffins have lids.

Her voice is rough from disuse as she scratches her beautifully manicured nails against the wooden lid. Her elbows smarting as she slams them against the sides of the coffin.

When she finally retrieves her voice, Pacifica screams loudly with the hope that someone would hear her. She spends most of the time screaming, but it’s no good as she is far too deep for anyone to hear her.

Logically it’s known that if you find yourself in this situation, you should not panic. Logic has no hold when you are buried in a wooden box and are still breathing.

So, panicking she is and her perfect fingernails are no longer perfect. Long grooves are now marring the wood and her fingers are starting to bleed as splinters are pushed further in. The ruin of her manicure alone would have stopped her before, but no amount of pain or gain would stop the panic train.

Her voice is going hoarse now and soon her screams have less sound than the scratching of her fingernails against the wood.

The walls are closing in now.

Or maybe it’s her lungs that are closing up. As they are struggling to pull in as much air as they were before.

Pacifica finds her voice again and her scratching grows more frantic. Her fingernails are starting to dig into the wood and stay there, but the pain is hard to discern from the blind panic clawing through her chest.

The air is running out.

Still she presses on screaming and scratching at the lid, neither effort doing her any good. Her heart is in over-time as she gasps and sputters for air in between screams.

There isn’t much time and with every trickle of air lost brings a floods worth of panic.

She has at last given up scratching the lid after losing her last fingernail, but now she is thrashing. Arms, legs, and even her head hitting against the lid in a fight to get free.

Still the coffin lid will not yield and she is almost out of air.

Laying back against the bottom of the wooden box, her fingers bleed sluggishly as her heart pumps blood through her body slower. If she focuses enough past her sluggish haze, Pacifica can hear the pathetic and slow thumping in her chest.

Then all is silent at last. 


	2. B is for Burst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You got me stuck on repeat. I can only move to the beat, and I don’t remember how it started, and I don’t know how to stop. But every time I reach the bottom, something pulls me right back to the top.” - Stuck on Repeat by Little Boots.

The kid really should have known that there were consequences in breaking deals with demons. Then again Gideon was a self-absorbed brat who didn’t think of his actions and their negative reactions until it was too late.

This was one of those times where he figured out the negative reaction as it was happening. Well, he was slowly figuring it out.

It didn’t hit Gideon that something might be wrong until lunch time when he had a hard time getting out of bed. Gideon was by no means a small child, but he had never had trouble getting out of bed before. Now he was struggling to even lift a finger without excruciating pain.

Moaning in pain, he finally gathered his meager courage to lunge out of bed. This proved to be a monumentally stupid idea; although he did manage to get out of bed, he was now lying on the ground gasping like a fish out of water.

It took him a while to pinpoint the source of the pain, and it swelled with every beat of his heart. So, it took some effort and fighting through pain for Gideon to turn his head so that he could see his body.

Swallowing then became difficult when he saw the purple mess of veins that his arm had become. Each blood vessel screaming with tension and pain any time he tried to move it.

Then his vision began to color red and Gideon really understood that he was in trouble.

“Guards!” He called out, but no one answered and he was forced to make a decision.

Rolling over was proving much more difficult than getting out of bed had. When he did finally manage it, the victory was short lived. Because Gideon’s eye suddenly exploded in its socket, spraying blood onto the floor and ripping a scream from the former fake child psychic.

The arm that had been holding him up popped loudly and suddenly the support was gone. Leaving Gideon to face plant ungracefully into the floor, his nose squishing harshly. That was a pain quickly forgotten though in the wake of the skin of his back exploding open.

Screaming loudly, blood stained tears leaked out of his one eye and he clawed against the ground with his working arm. Something in his internal organs gave a little pop and Gideon was finding the whole situation a lot harder to breathe through.

His mouth filled with blood and his other eye gave a satisfying burst as he slowly started drowning. That was over quickly though as his both of his lung burst in his chest. This only left Gideon a few more seconds of agonizing life before his body gave out completely.

After Gideon departed from the land of the living, Bill popped into the space between his bed and the ceiling. Snickering he watched the body deflate into a pile of goo before snapping his fingers.

Then the whole world reset to a few minutes earlier. Gideon trying to get out of bed and finding that he couldn’t due to the pain.

Yes, there were consequences to breaking a deal with a demon, and Bill wasn’t convinced that Gideon had learned his lesson yet. So, he watched the human struggle in pain for the hundredth time, and the demon reflected on how he never tired of seeing Gideon struggle for life.


	3. C is for Cannibalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Take my heart, pull it apart. And take my brain, or what remains." - Body by Mother Mother.

Everything around you is cold, everything except the warm body sleeping in the bed adjacent to yours. If you strain your senses a little bit, you can hear the soft puffs of air flowing between braces.

Creeping off of your bed, you move quietly to her’s. Despite how long and distended your limbs have become, the floorboards don’t seem make a noise under your feet. So, your sister is still sound asleep as you hover over her.

She looks so peaceful with her eyes shut and lips twitching upwards into a smile. Whatever she is dreaming is making her happy and you are hesitant to wake her up. Wanting her to keep a hold of her happy dreams for a little while longer.

Still, you are hungry and so very cold.

Looking around the room you think of ways to feed yourself without disturbing her. You used to be so good at thinking, but the hunger is clouding all and you can’t think of anything.

Watching her chest move up and down, you carefully cradle her head in your long hands. It’s so quick detaching her head from her body that you almost stumble. Cradling the head, you return to your bed and set it down so as to not mess up her serene face.

Not that you can admire it for too long. The hunger is insistent and it comes before all else.

Trudging back to the warmth, you slit open her belly clumsily and pull out her guts first. It has no flavor beyond metallic and warm, but for a while it sates your hunger. Not for too long though, and you are forced to shovel more of the spilled insides into your mouth.

It is messy work and there is blood everywhere. It doesn’t bother you though as you push piece after piece of meat and skin into your mouth. Your teeth are long and sharp for this purpose as they chew at the pieces.

Soon there isn’t anymore meat left and you are forced to start eating the bones. They crunch pleasantly between your teeth and satisfy your hunger much the same way the meat did. Sadly they too are gone before too long, but for the moment you are sated.

Breathing in the night air you turn your attention back to the head on your bed. It seems so silly to leave such a perfect slab of meat untouched, but every time you click your jaw to devour it, some foreign memory swims up.

Laughter, sweaters, ice cream on hot evenings, plastic dinosaurs, puppets, and glitter. They are just a bunch of disjointed images swirling around with no discernible source. But they mean something to the her, and they mean something to you.

Even as you feel you have lost every part of yourself to this hunger. You haven’t lost her to it. Though a pang that is not hunger hurts your stomach as you glance over the blood staining her covers.

Still, it is not something you dwell on for much longer. The hunger is quickly taking over and urging you to seek your next meal to satisfy it.

It is with humanoid eyes that you glance over the head one more time with the resolve to return. For a word with no meaning to you floats up out of your subconscious, but something tells you that it is important all the same. That she is important.

Mabel.


End file.
